


Holy shit were we really flirting

by mrfruitpunch



Series: Skwisface Week [1]
Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: How Do I Tag, M/M, Preklok, Yearning, help me im trapped in the fanfiction factory, sad mama's boy skwis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 02:48:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20716826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrfruitpunch/pseuds/mrfruitpunch
Summary: Late day 2 skwisface week, prompt: reminiscent. im gay.





	Holy shit were we really flirting

Around 2 am, Skwisgaar was awake, silently twiddling with his guitar. The decor of the apartment reminded him of the death metal record store’s basement, the faint smell of spray paint, smoke, beer, everything at once. Home, but the comfort didn’t put him to sleep. Nothing did, it was all too much, and here he didn’t have anyone to ramble mindlessly to in hopes he’d sleep after. He didn’t have anyone like that back in Sweden either. Skwisgaar wondered if most the people he met even knew his voice.

Serveta mentioned that every day since he was eleven, “You never talk anymore, what happened.” It was never a question, she never listened for an answer.

Even then, he didn’t have the words to explain it. Maybe it was like when he knew he was about to cry, and he couldn’t talk for his voice would betray him; with the weakness he would just cry harder. So, he never talked. Never cried. Slowly morphed into ‘never emote’. Perhaps he just preferred silence, he had nothing to say and wouldn’t waste his voice. That made him feel better, more protected. He could talk, he just won’t, because he knows some cosmic truth. It’s not that he’s awkward and hated his voice since puberty. He didn’t worry about what words to say or not to say. Why would he.

“Are you still up?” He jumped a little. William stood in the kitchen in a baggy t-shirt, probably Nathan’s, leaning on the counter.

“You ams too,” Skwisgaar sat up, and William rolled his eyes. Skwisgaar would swear that his eyes reflected light like a cat’s, like a strangely celestial animal in a snow storm.

“Yeah, well, I have a reason,” William elaborated, keeping his eyes averted. But Skwisgaar continued to look at him, he swore his eyes changed color. Green, yellow, gold, hazel, dark brown, he couldn’t keep his eyes off William. Skwisgaar felt a desperate, painfully real need to keep William talking.

“What’s ams the reasons?” He looked back up at Skwisgaar and his heart rose like a stupid romance novel- not romance. Not romance, Skwisgaar stressed. But then William smiled, oh he loved William’s dimples, and averted his eyes again. Maybe this one time, maybe this one time-

He heard his mother’s voice in his ear. Not romance.

“Past stuff, doesn’t matter but, it still kinda matters I guess, if I’m still thinkin’ about it,”

Skwisgaar almost forgot it was his turn to speak, William looked at him expectantly. “Me too, I nevers cans sleep.” Skwisgaar looked away, to the couch, to the guitar.

“Well, if you ever need any help sleeping, I’m right down the hall,” William broke the silence, and sounded like he was swallowing a pricker bush. Then he left, like a kid who just asked someone to prom.

Skwisgaar laid back down, and stared up at the ceiling, a little dazed. The ceiling of Mord stared back, and part of him longed for those times when they were a smaller band. Magnus was a chore, but William spent so much time with him back then. He followed William around as if he guided Skwisgaar through a storm. Romance had been long locked away in Skwisgaar’s heart, maybe even William’s. He held this idea and then sat straight up with the realization ‘oHMYGODHEWASTRYINGTOASKMETOSPENDTHENIGHT’.


End file.
